Where's the Girl?
by Felicia
Summary: An encounter with her past forces B'Elanna to make some tough decisions about her relationship with Tom and her place on Voyager.


Where's the Girl?  
  
By Felicia Ferguson  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Keywords: T/Other, P/T, J, C  
  
Timeline: Approximately six months into the P/T   
relationship (FYI…I've never seen the Equinox episodes, so   
please don't hold that against this story!)  
  
Summary: An encounter with her past forces B'Elanna to make   
some tough decisions about her relationship with Tom and her   
place on Voyager.  
  
1/12  
  
Janeway gazed thoughtfully at the blue-green orb that   
floated on the viewscreen. Two hours ago, her chief   
engineer had announced in the weekly staff meeting that a   
major overhaul of the warp drive would have to be done   
within the next month, if not sooner. If that news had not   
been bad enough, Neelix, the self-appointed morale officer   
had confirmed her suspicion that the crew was in desperate   
need of shore leave. Between the glum faces in Astrometrics   
and the loud disagreements in Engineering, Janeway had   
inwardly promised Voyager would dock at the next M class   
planet - if only to get off the ship for a little while.   
  
And then, like magic, their haven appeared: an M class moon   
which circled a gas giant only three light years away. She   
had tossed a smile at Chakotay and directed Paris to lay in   
a course as relief washed over her. The commander, who had   
over the years learned to read his captain quite well,   
smiled in return and leaned toward her. "Shore leave   
applies to you, too, Kathryn. Don't forget it."  
  
She glanced back, a twinkle forming in her eyes, and nodded.   
"Oh, don't worry, Chakotay. I'll be one of the first off   
the ship."  
  
As Voyager neared the moon, Janeway sat up straighter in her   
chair and asked, "Mr. Tuvok, are you getting any readings   
from the surface?"  
  
The dark-skinned Vulcan queried his monitors and replied,   
"Yes, Captain. I'm reading humanoid inhabitants. According   
to scans they do possess post-warp technologies."  
  
"Hallelujah!" cried Paris from the conn. He more than   
anyone else was ready for some time off - especially if it   
included a certain half-Klingon.   
  
Chakotay's lips twitched at the sound. "Open hailing   
frequencies. Let's see if they're in the mood for some   
guests."  
  
A series of muted beeps followed mere seconds later and   
Janeway waited a moment for the image to appear on screen.   
"This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship   
Voyager."  
  
"Good day to you, Captain," answered a diminutive man of   
undeterminable age. "I am Janell, First Prefect of the   
Kalattii System. We welcome you to our home."  
  
"Janell," the captain greeted with a slight incline of her   
head. "My crew is in need of some shore leave. Would you   
allow us to visit your world for a few days?"  
  
The purple man smiled openly. "Captain, you do us the   
greatest honor. You are most certainly welcome." He made a   
slight bowing motion and gestured to a rather large pink   
woman who stood behind him. "This is Adira, my consort.   
She will make all of the necessary arrangements."  
  
The woman echoed her husband's bow and brought her joined   
hands to forehead and then to her lips in acknowledgement of   
his words. "Captain," she stated in a soft, but melodious   
voice, "you have come at the most pleasant time of our year.   
Our Celebration of Life will begin tomorrow. You must come   
to the opening feast tonight. We will be honoring our   
highest citizen."  
  
Janeway smiled in response. "It is we who are honored,   
Adira, Janell. I will have one of my officers contact you   
momentarily. Voyager out."  
  
She turned, her lips softening to a pleased expression.   
"Sounds like we're going to have a great time," she murmured   
to her first officer.   
  
***  
  
"Oh, come *on*, B'Elanna!" Tom cried, frustration seeping   
into his voice. "Can't you leave the engine room for a few   
days?" He stared, blue eyes pleading with her to listen to   
reason.  
  
The chief engineer tossed him a scathing glance before   
picking up a tricorder and tapping out the program to begin   
remodulating the warp core. "For your information, Helm   
Boy, the warp core isn't going to just fix itself. I'm   
going to have to use all the free time I can get to make   
numerous repairs and upgrades before we leave orbit." She   
glanced from the tricorder to the monitor and made a few   
adjustments before turning and heading back to the core.  
  
Tom crossed his arms and stood firm. He knew she was in   
"engineer" mode, during which it was hard to reason with   
her. But, dammit, any time they'd had alone during the past   
month had been stolen moments and quick hand grasps as they   
passed in the corridors. And, frankly, he was getting tired   
of it. He dropped his arms as he watched her discuss   
something with Joe Carey.   
  
Paris' brow furrowed as he studied his lover in action.   
'Well,' he decided silently, 'if she won't listen to me,   
I'll just have to call on the persuasive skills of a higher   
power.' With an impudent smile, he tapped his comm badge   
and stated in a voice that carried through the room, "Paris   
to Janeway."  
  
"Go ahead, Mr. Paris," she answered briskly.  
  
Tom watched as B'Elanna's shoulders tensed. She knew what   
he was doing. She turned back to him, shoving the tricorder   
into Carey's open hands, and advanced slowly on her lover.   
Their eyes locked, hers full of fire, his full of mischief.  
  
"Captain, did I imagine it or did you state that *all*   
officers were supposed to take a minimum of three days shore   
leave?"  
  
Janeway, hearing the forced innocence in his voice, tried to   
keep the smile out of hers as she replied, "No, Mr. Paris,   
you did not imagine it. I especially want my senior staff   
well-rested."  
  
"But, Captain!" B'Elanna broke in. "Voyager can't just grow   
another warp engine -"  
  
Tom could mentally picture the captain's smile   
disintegrating into what everyone on the ship had deemed her   
"don't mess with me" look. "Ms. Torres, do you have a   
problem with my orders?"  
  
"Yes!" Torres replied heatedly.   
  
Before she could list all of the reasons, Janeway, much to   
the surprise of the Engineering staff answered, "Tough. The   
senior officers have been invited for the Kalattii's annual   
feast and celebration at 2100. You will be there and in   
dress uniform. Janeway out."  
  
B'Elanna snarled at Tom, "You'll pay for this, Paris."  
  
Tom's smile widened to a full-fledged grin as he answered   
cheerfully, "I certainly hope so!" Tossing Carey a pleased   
gaze, Paris turned and followed her out of the room.  
  
  
***  
  
"Hey!" cried Harry Kim as B'Elanna pushed past him, stalking   
toward the turbolift. Seeing his best friend trailing   
behind her, he asked, "What's with her?"  
  
"Oh, she just got some news she really didn't want to hear,"   
Paris replied, looping a brotherly arm around the younger   
man. "So, Harry, what are you planning on doing first?"  
  
The ensign's eyes lit up. "Well, I've been doing some   
research on this Celebration of Life. Did you know that one   
of the festivities includes a glider contest on the planet?"   
  
Tom shook his head, indicating he hadn't heard of such a   
thing. "It's the ultimate in extreme sports!" Kim gushed,   
warming to the topic. "Each contestant is issued a super-  
thin environmental suit and what amounts to a twentieth   
century hang-glider. You're taken into the atmosphere by a   
shuttlecraft and then deposited into the whirlwinds. The   
first person to complete 5 revolutions wins."  
  
"That's great, Harry, but how do you get out?" Tom cast a   
slightly worried glance at his friend as they rounded the   
corridor and entered the turbolift.  
  
Kim glanced sheepishly away, "Um. I haven't figured that   
part out yet."  
  
***  
  
2/12  
  
Brightly airy music greeted the senior staff as they beamed   
to the surface, promptly at 2100 hours. Torres tugged a   
little at the collar of her dress uniform, shooting Paris a   
disgusted look as he tried to hide a smile at her   
discomfiture. He sidled over to her and whispered, "Relax,   
'Lanna. The warp engines will be there when you get back."   
His normally cocky grin softened to a comforting smile as he   
unobtrusively traced a finger down the back of her hand.   
"Besides you can't blame me for wanting us to spend some   
time together."  
  
She glanced down, her bobbed hair hiding the twitch of her   
own lips. "No," she murmured, looking back up at him, "I   
can't. And though I'll deny it under oath, thanks."  
  
Tom linked their hands together and squeezed lightly then   
returned his to their customary position. If any of the   
other members of the senior staff noticed, none objected.   
Moments later, the crew was greeted personally by Janell and   
Adira.   
  
"Ah, Captain," cooed the man, whose purple skin was   
strikingly offset by his black tunic. His wife was   
similarly attired, but she had chosen a light aqua color   
instead. "We are so pleased that you have arrived. And   
just in time, for we are about to announce our guest of   
honor, The Most Revered." He gestured to a nearby   
conglomeration of cushions and stated, "Your places will be   
here; to the left of The Most Revered."  
  
Janeway smiled warmly and took her place while the others   
selected their own pillows. She turned to Chakotay and   
watched him situate himself on a pair of cushions. "I asked   
Adira for some history about the Celebration of Life,"   
Janeway murmured, her eyes lighting up with the thrill of   
new knowledge.   
  
Chakotay smiled at her eagerness. "I would think it would   
have something to do with the harvest season."  
  
"In all actuality, no," she replied, "it doesn't. About   
four hundred years ago, the Kalattii were slaves to a   
powerful race known as the Triors. When the Kalattii staged   
an uprising against their masters, they lost thousands of   
people, approximately 2/3 of their total population. They   
celebrate their success in defeating the Triors by honoring   
those who survived. Hence, the Celebration of Life."  
  
"That's fascinating," the commander agreed. "Were you able   
to get any information about The Most Revered?"  
  
Janeway shook her head, "Nothing much. The only thing I was   
able to learn was that he somehow defeated a fleet of the   
enemy's ships single-handedly a few years ago."  
  
A trillion trumpet-like instruments forestalled any further   
conversation between the two and Janell humbly climbed a   
smallish dais at the front of the room. "Honored guests, we   
welcome the crew of Voyager and encourage that all   
hospitality be shown to them. They have traveled far and   
welcome a respite on our beautiful moon."   
  
Janell bowed slightly and others of varying colors turned   
and offered their own deferential posturing. Just as the   
purple Kalattii raised his hand to command the crowd's   
attention, Torres felt the hairs stand up on the back of her   
neck.   
  
"Honored guests, it is my privilege to present our *most*   
honored guest, The Most Revered," Janell stated warmly as he   
moved to one side of the dais and a human man stepped up to   
the platform.  
  
Tom watched a myriad of emotions flash across B'Elanna's   
face in the seconds it took for recognition to dawn. She   
knew him. There was no doubt about that. When Paris heard   
her growl, "You, p'tahk!" with a mixture of surprise and   
anger, he felt the ground drop out from under him.  
  
The look on Chakotay's face confirmed Paris' supposition.   
Whatever the identity of The Most Revered, he and B'Elanna   
had unfinished business.  
  
***  
  
3/12  
  
Some hours later, after the ceremony's conclusion, Janeway   
held court in Voyager's conference room. Seated around the   
table were her senior officers, Janell, and The Most   
Revered, whose identity had been revealed to be Garrick   
Warwich, a former member of the Maquis.  
  
"Mr. Warwich," Janeway began with a slight incline of her   
head. "You seemed to have lucked out when it comes to final   
destinations in the Delta Quadrant."  
  
Garrick smiled and nodded his head ruefully. "Its true, the   
Kalattii have been most kind to me."  
  
"It was only reasonable," Janell interjected. "The Most   
Revered saved our moon and everyone who lives here."  
  
"Oh?" queried Chakotay from his seat to the left of the   
captain. "How so?"  
  
Janell straightened in the chair, his eyes sparkling with   
the opportunity to share the story which had become a legend   
among his people. "As you know, the Kalattii were once   
slaves of the Triors. Centuries back, our ancestors drove   
them out, but five years ago, they returned, eager to   
restake their claim on our society and send us back into the   
Trosian fields."   
  
The purple-colored man paused, his normally dulcet voice   
deepening as he continued to weave the story. "We were   
doomed. With no weapons of any account that would battle a   
fleet of starships, we prepared to hide underground." He   
glanced around the table, including everyone in the tale.   
"Unfortunately, only a few miles of caves had been dug -   
certainly not enough space for hundreds of people. "  
  
Janell looked to Garrick, respectful awe filling his gaze.   
"At the height of the attack, when the Triors had destroyed   
almost every city, The Most Revered appeared in our space.   
It was Providence itself. He annihilated our enemies and   
saved our world."  
  
Janeway smiled warmly at the Kalattiian as the senior   
officers absorbed the story.  
  
"You still haven't told us how you ended up here," B'Elanna   
remarked from her seat across the table from Garrick. Paris   
was equally eager to hear more about this mystery man who   
obviously held some key to his lover's past. The lieutenant   
snuck a glance at Torres trying to gauge her emotional   
investment in the other man's answer.   
  
Garrick smiled wryly. "You remember that scouting trip   
Merale Turvis sent me on?"  
  
"You were tracking the Cardassians' movements along the   
Dozaria system, right?" Chakotay asked glancing from the   
chief engineer to Warwich.  
  
Nodding, Warwich answered, "I was almost spotted a few times   
so I decided to hide out in the Badlands and wait them out.   
While I was there, some sort of coherent tetryon beam   
snagged me and tossed me here."  
  
B'Elanna shook her head, confused by the time frame he had   
outlined. "Garrick, Voyager and The Liberty were sent   
70,000 light years away from the Alpha Quadrant. Why   
weren't you sent that far as well if we were hit by the same   
type of beam?"  
  
He shook his head equally puzzled by the situation.   
  
"Captain, if I may," Tuvok interjected, "his ship, being a   
small scout ship, didn't have as much mass as Voyager and   
the Liberty combined, so the inertia was less. That could   
account for the differences in the distance traveled by both   
sets of ships."  
  
Janeway nodded and briskly answered, "Agreed." She turned   
to Garrick and invited, "Mr. Warwich, you are most welcome   
to stay on Voyager for the duration of our shore leave."  
  
Warwich glanced uncertainly between the captain and her   
chief engineer. "Captain," he began, choosing his words   
carefully. "I believe the Triors were merely driven back -   
not defeated completely." He glanced to Janell, who nodded   
eagerly, knowing what The Most Revered would request. "I   
have been working with the Kalattii to build a fleet of   
ships to protect them. However, the process is slow. They   
don't have the technical expertise. If I could, I would   
like to invite B'Elanna to consult on the schematics."  
  
Torres blinked, startled by the proposal. Paris, on the   
other hand, felt the slow burn, that had begun in his   
stomach upon Garrick's introduction flare. He was about to   
object, though it would have been based on personal reasons   
which were not something Janeway valued highly, when   
B'Elanna answered.   
  
"Captain, I would like to help. Garrick and I have worked   
together before and I'm certain we could create a force to   
protect these people."  
  
Shocked, Tom swallowed his objection in favor of breathing.   
Though he hadn't expected her to refuse, he certainly   
wouldn't have guessed she would jump at the chance. 'Well,'   
he thought with resignation, 'maybe this will give her a   
chance make a little more peace with her past.' Although,   
he had the distinct feeling that more than peace would be   
made over the next few days.  
  
The captain glanced appraisingly at Paris then shifted her   
gaze to the woman sitting on his left. Knowing full well   
that there was a better than even chance this would turn out   
badly for someone, she was unsure just who that someone   
would be. Making a command decision, she nodded, mentally   
preparing herself for the fallout to come.  
  
  
***  
  
"So, I'll meet you for lunch 1300?" Tom asked his lover as   
the meeting concluded. He feigned indifference and tried   
not to notice the close proximity Garrick maintained to   
B'Elanna.  
  
The chief engineer glanced uncertainly from Paris to   
Warwich. "Well, um," she began. "Garrick and I have   
decided to grab something to eat now and start mapping out   
the schematics."  
  
Tom nodding, hiding his disappointment behind his usual   
cocky mask. "Alright, then. Have fun!" Torres watched as   
he glanced at the former Maquis and felt something pass   
between the two men, but for the life of her, she couldn't   
figure out what. Dismissing it as some sort of alpha male   
behavior, she shook her head and turned, gesturing for   
Garrick to follow her.  
  
As Tom headed for the Bridge, he surreptitiously watched   
B'Elanna and Garrick walk to the turbolift. 'Maybe this   
what we need. After all, this…relationship…is still pretty   
new. Maybe this will help her figure out if a future   
together is what she truly wants,' Paris tried to convince   
himself, giving the pair one last look before the doors   
closed. 'Just, *please* don't do anything rash, 'Lanna,' he   
inwardly prayed. As he settled at the conn, his imagination   
rapidly generated several possible futures for them, the   
most frightening being that she chose Warwich over himself.   
Try as he might, the mental image of a life without B'Elanna   
would not let go. Tom smothered a grimace. It was going to   
be a long shift.  
  
***  
  
"B'Elanna," Garrick began as they sat down at a table in the   
corner of the mess hall. "I didn't tell Janeway the whole   
truth in the conference room. I want you to stay. Here on   
the Kalattii moon."  
  
Surprised by his request, Torres shook her head. "Garrick,   
I -"   
  
"What kind of life do you have on Voyager?" She opened her   
mouth to reply, but he forestalled her, raising a hand.   
"Exciting, I'm sure. There's nothing like exploring an   
uncharted quadrant. But does it satisfy you? Do you go   
back to your quarters at night and relish the start of your   
next shift? Or do you pray that nothing will break down and   
force you from your bed at an ungodly hour?"  
  
B'Elanna winced at how easily he had read her mind. Just   
last week, she had berated Carey openly after he had   
interrupted her first holodeck time with Tom in a month.   
Another warp coil had blown out and, of course, her presence   
was required for the new installation. Three hours and one   
spent fuse later, she had stalked out of Engineering   
demanding that for just one night no one call her with some   
sort of disaster. She knew that Carey had worked with her   
long enough to recognize her ire for what it was—simple   
frustration for the elementary task—but she had said it   
nonetheless.   
  
"You forget, B'Elanna," Garrick murmured as he reached   
across the table to caress her cheek. "I know you. We are   
cut from the same cloth." He smiled wryly, "We're   
renegades."  
  
She closed her eyes, wrestling with the conflicting emotions   
that warred within her. 'Am I that different of a person   
now?' Torres questioned, searching her heart for an answer.  
  
He watched her carefully, shaking his head at the indecision   
that crossed her face. "What happened to you, B'Elanna?"   
Garrick asked, his brow furrowing with concern. "Where's   
the fire that used to fill your eyes? Is the girl I used to   
know still there, buried under that Starfleet uniform?"  
  
"Garrick," she began, still trying to find the words to   
convince him that she was the person he knew. That nothing   
would change her, even though she had the strangest feeling   
that that wasn't really true. She had changed. Had lost   
something of her former self as the years passed. And now,   
she began to wonder if she missed her.  
  
He shook his head and then glanced around them. "She's   
disappeared in this world. Her passion and fire dimmed by   
Starfleet regulations." Taking her hand, he urged softly,   
"Come back to me. We'll find her, together."  
  
B'Elanna's eyes drifted shut as the memories of his touch   
washed over her. 'How long has it been?' she questioned   
silently. 'How long since I last felt his breath on my   
cheek?'  
  
"You and I are destined for each other. We knew it back then   
and, deep down, you know it even now. Our meeting again just   
reinforces it." He took her other hand in his and a shudder   
of memory tremored through her.   
  
'How can he still have this effect on me when I had given   
him up for dead years ago?' _You never truly gave him up,_   
piped in her conscience. _Did you ever once say good-bye   
when his ship disappeared?_ 'No,' she replied with a mental   
shake of her head. 'I dove right in on the Liberty's warp   
core and did a massive overhaul rather than think about it.'  
  
She looked up guiltily and into Garrick's sympathetic   
features. "Here it will be different. B'Elanna, I am   
offering you the chance to build a fleet of starships from   
the ground up. You will be in total control of the   
schematics." Sensing her reluctance weakening, he sweetened   
the deal. "And I can guarantee you the best equipment in   
the quadrant. No bargaining or trading necessary." He   
paused for a moment and glanced around the room, then looked   
back at her with a secretive smile. "Would you like to see   
one of the prototypes?"  
  
B'Elanna's eyes widened with curiosity. "Do you even have   
to ask?"  
  
Garrick smiled knowing his fish had been caught. "Then   
let's get out of here."  
  
***  
  
4/12  
  
They had beamed to the surface a few feet from a large   
oblong formation. The mountains in the distance served as   
an exquisite backdrop to the black and red building.   
B'Elanna commented on it and Warwich nodded. "It is a   
beautiful world. It would be terrible to see such   
devastating destruction again." As they neared the doors to   
the building, two guards snapped to attention. "Gentlemen,"   
Garrick soothed, "I bring a friend. She is an engineer of   
much respect on her ship. She will be consulting on the   
fleet."  
  
The guards relaxed at the information and one nodded and   
opened the door. Garrick gestured for B'Elanna to precede   
him. As she entered the building, she felt a cool flash of   
air pass over her. Her companion smiled and replied,   
"Decontamination program."  
  
She nodded and peered into the semi-darkness. A soft glow   
from above barely illuminated the room. But it was just   
enough to showcase Warwich's pride and joy. "''The   
Champion','" he murmured into her ear.   
  
The warmth of his breath tickled and tantalized her senses,   
continuing to bring back memories of their nights together.   
B'Elanna forced her thoughts away from that dangerous   
subject and willed herself to pay more attention to the ship   
than to its creator.  
  
Though it was obviously a scout ship, the body was oblong   
with clean lines sloping back to the engines. Its smallish   
size was offset by the strength conveyed in the shape of the   
hull.   
  
"She's capable of warp 7 - not much, I know, by Starfleet   
standards, but as I said, the Kalattii aren't the most   
technically sophisticated race in the quadrant."  
  
B'Elanna shook her head and answered, "No, Garrick, it's   
perfect. Light and fast. Able to make quick strikes." She   
glanced back at him, her eyebrows raised questioningly, "I   
assume it has a full armament of photon torpedoes and   
phasers."  
  
Garrick smiled with delight. "But, of course!" he replied,   
eyes full of mirth. "Only the best for the Triors." He   
placed a hand at her elbow and once again B'Elanna was   
struck by how much she had forgotten about him. No matter   
what, he always had the manners of a gentleman. _Unlike   
someone else you know,_ her conscience interjected evilly.   
'That's not fair!' she chastised inwardly. 'Tom is…." But   
that was the problem: while she was with Garrick, she didn't   
know what Tom was.  
  
"B'Elanna?" her companion asked with slight concern.  
  
She jerked her head at the sound and offered him a sheepish   
smile. "Sorry, just woolgathering."  
  
His brow furrowed then relaxed a moment later. "Would you   
like to go back?"  
  
Shaking her head, Torres replied, "Not right now. Let's   
check out the inside." He smiled and led her to the ship.  
  
***  
  
Several hours and gallons of engine grease later, B'Elanna   
beamed back to Voyager. Although ''The Champion'' was   
architecturally well crafted, there was quite a bit of fine-  
tuning that had to occur before she was ready for testing.   
Exhausted, but invigorated by the prospect of creating her   
own fleet, she headed for the Mess Hall, hoping for a chance   
to run some of her ideas by Chakotay. As yet another person   
who had had to learn to deal with second-hand technology,   
she hoped to get some feedback on her plans.  
  
Grabbing a plate of whatever Nelix was serving that day, she   
glanced around the room and found the object of her search   
sitting alone with several data padds scattered around the   
table. "Chakotay," she greeted, her eyes lighting up with   
excitement. "Mind if I join you? I've got some things I'd   
like to run by you, if you've got a moment."  
  
The commander smiled softly and nodded with characteristic   
calm. "Have a seat. I was just going over the duty rosters   
anyway. The shore leave has a lot of people swapping shifts   
and I have to make sure everything is covered."  
  
B'Elanna nodded distractedly. Taking a bite of the green   
conglomeration on her plate, she ignored the stinging   
sensation at the back of her throat as she swallowed,   
allowing instead her engineer's mind to focus on her   
project. "Back on The Liberty, when you had that warp coil   
blow out - that I had to fix a couple of months later when I   
came on board - how did you patch the systems to maintain   
some sort of functionality?"  
  
Chakotay pursed his lips, curious as to where she was headed   
with this conversation. "I assume this is about Garrick and   
the fleet of ships he intends to build?"  
  
She shook her head and answered, "Not *he,* Chakotay, *I.*"   
  
The commander's eyes widened at the implication of her   
words. "B'Elanna, building a fleet big enough to counter   
the Triors will take months, if not years. I hope you know   
that Voyager isn't planning on taking shore leave for that   
long."  
  
Torres nodded slowly, the steadiness of her gaze confirming   
his words. "I know."   
  
"Are you thinking about resigning your commission and   
leaving Voyager?" he asked, tamping down on the concern that   
was rapidly growing to panic. He knew she had been spending   
a great deal of time with the former Maquis, but for her to   
be questioning her life on Voyager…  
  
Before he could utter another word, a shadow fell over the   
table. "Mind if I join you?" Tom Paris asked brightly,   
ignoring the tension that hung between the commander and the   
lieutenant.   
  
Torres glanced up at him, her eyes hardening. "It's   
personal, Paris. Why don't you keep Harry company for a   
while? We're busy here."  
  
Chakotay glanced up at the pilot and read the hurt in his   
eyes seconds before his usual cocky mask slipped into place.   
Paris cracked a grin that didn't reach his eyes and   
answered, "Well, then, don't have to tell me twice. I can   
tell when three's a crowd." He sauntered over to Harry's   
table and the harshness in Torres' eyes dimmed somewhat.  
  
"B'Elanna, what was that all about?" the commander asked,   
leaning forward to capture her gaze.  
  
She shook her head. "It's nothing. He wouldn't understand.   
That's all. He's just a flyboy anyway." Shaking off the   
sudden daze she felt, B'Elanna launched into a brainstorm   
about how to get the maximum efficiency out of engines that   
were only designed for warp 7.  
  
As she continued, Chakotay watched the woman he had come to   
know as B'Elanna Torres, chief engineer, revert back into   
B'Elanna Torres, Maquis soldier. It was a sight he was not   
happy to see.  
  
***  
  
5/12  
  
The door to Chakotay's office chimed and inwardly the first   
officer sighed. He had a good idea as to the identification   
of the person on the other side and wasn't looking forward   
to the conversation ahead. Straightening in his chair, he   
called, "Enter!" and readied himself for what was certain to   
be an interesting discussion.  
  
Tom paused a moment before entering and asked, "You got a   
minute, Chakotay?"  
  
The Indian nodded and gestured for Paris to take a seat.   
Licking his lips, the young man sat down only to jump up a   
moment later and begin pacing the confines of the room.   
"How well do you know this Warwich guy?" Paris asked without   
preamble.   
  
Surprised by the pilot's unexpected forthrightness, Chakotay   
pursed his lips and steepled his fingers in front of him. "I   
knew him. Not well, but most people in the Maquis had   
something to hide so it wasn't a rare occurrence that you   
really didn't know your companions well."  
  
Tom paused mid-prowl and asked over his shoulder, "Who is he   
to B'Elanna?"  
  
"I think that's something that's better discussed with   
B'Elanna herself," he replied sagely, trying like mad to   
figure a way out of this conversation without the younger   
man losing his temper and doing something he would later   
regret.  
  
Paris let out a cynical bark of laughter. "I would if I   
could, but she's down on the surface going over who-knows-  
what with him. So you're my next best thing." Tom turned   
back to the commander and placed his hands on the desk,   
leaning down into the older man's face. "Tell me,   
Chakotay," he bit out gravelly. "Were they lovers?"  
  
Chakotay, knowing he would not get out of this situation   
without at least giving Paris some information, took in a   
short breath. "Yes, Tom. They were lovers. They met a few   
months prior to his disappearance in the Badlands. The   
Liberty was, among other things, sent out there to look for   
him."   
  
Tom's brow furrowed as he processed the information and   
compared it with what he knew about his lover. "But, I   
thought she hadn't loved anyone since that guy, Pedro."  
  
The first officer offered him a grim smile. "I didn't say   
anything about love, Mr. Paris."  
  
"So it was only physical?" the pilot asked, a gleam of   
something dangerous forming in his eyes.  
  
Chakotay shook his head. "This is definitely something   
better discussed with B'Elanna."  
  
A scowl stole over the features of Tom Paris, and in the   
instant that he walked out of his office, Chakotay did not   
envy the chief engineer one bit.  
  
***  
  
"Just when were you going to tell me about him, B'Elanna?"   
Tom barked as he stalked passed her into her quarters. "My   
God, I had to go to Chakotay to find out Garrick was your   
lover!"  
  
Torres, having just returned from the surface, scowled at   
his invasion but let it pass in favor of avoiding the   
curious stares of passing crew members. She followed him in   
and sighed thankfully as the doors softly whished shut.   
"Tom, he was dead to me."  
  
He swung around and pierced her with a sharp gaze. Shaking   
his head, he replied, "Last time I looked he was very much   
alive to me."  
  
B'Elanna, incensed by his anger shot back, "You haven't   
exactly been very forthright about what happened on Caldik   
Prime. Who was *she* to you?"  
  
Paris set his jaw, then growled, "I'm not the one whose past   
suddenly appeared out of nowhere, 'Lanna."  
  
Shaking her head at his incomprehensible audacity, B'Elanna   
retorted, "You have no demand on me. I don't have to tell   
you anything!"  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," he responded sharply, "we've been lovers   
now for what…six months? You've admitted that you love me   
and vice versa. Pardon me for my curiosity, but what other   
qualifications are needed to have some sort of *demand* on   
you?"  
  
Torres hurled the tricorder she had forgotten she had been   
carrying in Tom's general direction. "How *dare* you throw   
that back in my face!"  
  
"Why not?" he shot back, ignoring the now dead tricorder   
which lay mere inches from his feet. He crossed his arms in   
front of him and surveyed her closely. "Isn't it true?"  
  
B'Elanna opened her mouth to contradict him, but, to her   
dismay, no sound emerged.   
  
Tom lowered his arms and took a step toward her. His voice   
soft and gaze determined, he dared, "Tell me you don't love   
me." He paused and closed the gap between them, taking her   
face in his hands so she was forced to meet his gaze. "Tell   
me that you've forgotten the day you claimed me as your   
mate."   
  
He smiled softly in remembrance. "I haven't. Even though   
the scar has faded, the memory is still there. Tell me   
you've forgotten what you said when we were near death and   
lost in the middle of space." Tom's thumbs absently began   
caressing her face, as his eyes were lost in the memory. "I   
was an idiot then, 'Lanna, to not tell you how much I love   
you. But you do know that. Now."  
  
She closed her eyes, lulled by the soothing tone of his   
voice, the warmth of his hands, his breath on her cheek.   
Suddenly the warmth was replaced by the softness of his   
lips. The emotions she had been fighting bubbled to the   
surface and she responded with a wanton eagerness. It had   
been so long since they had last made love.   
  
Abandoning her lips, he trailed a soft row of kisses along   
her brow ridges as he breathed in the essence of the woman   
he would die for. B'Elanna's breath caught at his   
tenderness, savoring the feel of his lips on her.   
  
Tom, lost in the sensation of holding her again and unaware   
of the meaning behind his words, then murmured the   
unforgivable. "Tell me he never made you feel this way."   
  
She started as the request pierced the haze of arousal that   
surrounded her. Brow furrowing in shocked disbelief,   
B'Elanna jerked away from him and spat, "Tell you *what*?"  
  
Paris, startled by her sudden retreat, blinked and mentally   
replayed his last words. 'Dammit, Paris,' he thought to   
himself. 'Why don't you just piss her off?' Aloud, he   
tried to undo the damage, "B'Elanna -"  
  
Torres slowly advanced on him, her dark eyes blazing. "You   
want me to compare your techniques? Is that it? Who got   
B'Elanna off the best?"  
  
"He waltzes back into your life and you willingly trail   
after him like a dog in heat! Why *wouldn't* I want to know   
what he's got that all of a sudden I don't?" Paris shot back   
at her, his chest heaving with emotion.  
  
Torres shot him a disgusted look. "Humans!" she spat,   
turning away from him once more to pace back to the window.   
"Always wanting to know every lurid detail. You want to   
know? Fine! Then get ready for the ride of your life   
because that's what he was to me!"  
  
Her brown eyes gleamed ferally and Tom began to wonder just   
how much he really *did* want to know about her past   
relationship. With a slight nod, she turned, rubbing her   
hands up and down her arms, remembering the feel of the   
hands she had thought long dead. "Chakotay was right.   
Garrick and I were lovers," she bit out, her words almost as   
bruising as her tone. She stopped a few feet from the   
window and gazed out at the stars. "I'll never forget the   
day we met." Her voice took on a dreamy tone and Paris   
winced at the sudden change.  
  
"The attraction was instantaneous. We shook hands and, I   
swear, I saw a current of electricity snap between us." She   
turned back to Tom, but her eyes were glazed as she relived   
her memories. "That night…was incredible. I'd never felt   
like that before. It was raw. It was animalistic. It was   
as if he knew every little part of me and satisfied it   
beyond comprehension."  
  
Paris pursed his lips, deciding that, if he didn't want to   
hear a blow by blow account of their lovemaking, now was an   
opportune time to interrupt. "So you had great sex," he   
commented. He watched as her eyes cleared and focused in on   
him. "But what did he do to your heart?"  
  
B'Elanna stared at him.  
  
Slowly, he walked closer and, though he dared not touch her   
knowing he would just pique her Klingon side, he lifted his   
hand and caressed the air around her face. "When you held   
his hand, beneath the passion, did you feel something else?   
Did you feel what I feel when *I* hold your hand?" His eyes   
pleaded with her, begging that she tell him what he   
desperately needed to hear.  
  
"Did you feel the sweet joy of love singing in your blood?   
Did you for once feel that you would happily sacrifice   
yourself so that he could live? Did the piece of him that   
you held in your heart ache every moment you were separated?   
How does what you felt for him compare to what you feel for   
me?" Tom watched with a sinking feeling that right now she   
truly didn't have an answer.   
  
As the silence grew, he steeled himself against the sudden   
stab of pain that accompanied that knowledge and murmured,   
"You don't have to have an answer for me, but 'Lanna, at   
some point you *will* have to have one for yourself."   
Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.  
  
***  
  
6/12  
  
Having escaped the suddenly close confines of her quarters,   
Tom leaned against the bulkhead next to her door and closed   
his eyes, willing the pain that now overwhelmed him to ease.   
'Maybe she never really did love me. Maybe she said it   
because she thought we were dying and when we didn't, she   
regrets it.'   
  
Setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders, Paris forced   
himself to walk down the hall, past the curious stares of   
his crewmates, and into the turbolift. He swore he would   
not lose it in front of God and everyone. There was already   
enough gossip on the ship about the newly-discovered love   
triangle. With a sigh of relief, the lift doors opened and   
revealed he had lucked out. He wouldn't have to share a   
ride. He swallowed convulsively and ordered, "Deck four."   
At this time of night Sandrine's would most likely be empty   
- those working Alpha shift having gone to bed hours ago and   
the Beta/Gamma workers were either still on duty or reveling   
in the sorely needed shore leave.  
  
As he walked into the holodeck, Tom found that his luck   
still held. Only a handful of holodeck characters were   
present and no one from Voyager itself. He ordered a scotch   
on the rocks with more scotch than rocks, then sat down   
heavily at a table in the corner. Tom nursed the drink,   
silently replaying the fight with B'Elanna and chastising   
himself for bringing up the topic. So immersed was he in   
his thoughts, he didn't notice that he was no longer alone.  
  
"May I join you, Mr. Paris?" asked a familiar voice.  
  
Without waiting for a response from her pilot, Janeway   
pulled out a chair and gestured to Sandrine for two more of   
whatever Tom was drinking. The French woman smiled with   
understanding and readied the drinks.  
  
Janeway allowed the silence at the table to grow; she could   
feel the young man's pain radiating off of him and for a   
moment she was unsure if this really was a good idea.   
However, based on her conversation with Chakotay, it seemed   
like the fallout was already starting. The captain nodded   
her thanks to the bar's owner as she quietly deposited the   
drinks and returned to the back room.  
  
Blanching as she took a sip of what turned out to be a very   
strong scotch, Janeway pursed her lips and decided the best   
approach would be a direct one. She folded her hands in   
front of her and stared at the slumped figure of Tom Paris.   
His hair was askew as if he had run his hands through it one   
too many times and when he absently looked up at her, she   
could read the pain in his eyes.  
  
"How much do you love her, Tom?" Kathryn asked, her voice   
low, but strong.  
  
Paris looked curiously at her, his features scrunched into a   
quizzical mask. "I'm sorry. Captain?"  
  
Sighing, she offered him an understanding smile. "Do you   
love her enough to let her make her own choices?"  
  
Tom closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. "I   
don't know, Captain. I just don't know." He bit his lower   
lip then shook his head. "Last week…hell, yesterday, I   
could have told you anything you wanted to know about me and   
B'Elanna. But now?" He shrugged helplessly. "It's like   
she's changed over night. She's not the B'Elanna Torres I   
fell in love with. Every moment she spends with Warwich,   
she changes just a little more - she's harder, more   
headstrong...and when I look in her eyes, there's only a   
glimmer of something I recognize…"  
  
Janeway took another sip of her drink and laid a supportive   
hand on Paris' forearm. "I know its hard, Tom. Watching   
someone you love confront her past…"  
  
"But that's just it, Captain. I'm *glad* she's getting a   
chance to close some old doors completely. I'm just scared   
she's going to lose who she's become in the process." He   
offered her a sorrowful smile. "And when it's all over,   
she'll realize she never loved me in the first place."  
  
Janeway's eyebrows crawled up her forehead. "Now, I don't   
believe that for a minute, Tom Paris," she chastised   
forcefully. "You can't fake the way she looks at you when   
she thinks no one is watching. Nor the concern she has for   
you when you're injured or missing."  
  
Paris shrugged half-heartedly in response and the captain   
added, "But, neither can you tell a stubborn half-Klingon   
what's best for her life." She smiled encouragingly at him.   
"So I'll ask again. Do you love her enough to let her make   
own decisions? And trust that she'll choose correctly in   
the end?"  
  
After a moment, Tom nodded. And he did. God help him, but   
he did. 'Please, 'Lanna, don't let me down now,' he   
silently prayed.   
  
***  
  
7/12  
  
"B'Elanna!" Garrick greeted warmly as he met her in the   
development building. Placing his hands on her shoulders he   
pulled her into a slight hug and pressed his lips to her   
temple. "You are an absolute genius!" he praised, the   
corners of his mouth lifting with pride.  
  
Confused, Torres looked up into his features, ignoring how   
good it felt to be in his arms again. "What happened?"  
  
Garrick turned her in his embrace, throwing an arm casually   
around her shoulders, and walked toward the scout ship.   
"The modifications you developed will increase the warp   
capacity to warp 8.3! It could make all the difference in a   
fight."  
  
The engineer glanced up at him with a saucy grin. "You   
didn't think I had it in me, did you?"  
  
"I had absolutely no doubts in your abilities, B'Elanna," he   
rejoined. "I was merely surprised at how quickly the   
updates were completed."  
  
"Well, Voyager hasn't exactly been a leisure cruise.   
Whenever something breaks down, the captain usually wants it   
fixed yesterday." She smiled again, her mind drifting back   
to her early days on the ship. "It's been good for me…"  
  
Garrick looked down at her quizzically, slowly their   
meandering pace to a full stop. "Why do I sense a 'but' in   
there?"  
  
B'Elanna shook her head, glancing away. "Probably because   
there is," she replied with a frustrated sigh.   
  
Sensing she was reluctant to talk about something that was   
obviously bothering her, he squeezed her shoulders once then   
changed the subject, hoping to steer her back to the topic   
in a round-about way. "Do you remember the time when you   
beamed me out of that Cardassian brig at warp speed?"  
  
Torres smiled with satisfaction as they resumed their walk   
toward 'The Champion'. "It was pretty amazing, wasn't it?"  
  
"How many times do you get a chance to do something like   
that on Voyager? The look on your face when I   
rematerialized was absolutely breathtaking."  
  
"Once," she replied, sobering as she recalled the   
circumstances behind Chakotay's rescue from Seska. "I've   
had the opportunity once since I've been here."  
  
"Opportunity?" Garrick questioned. "You mean you could have   
made history again? Or, did something bad happen?"  
  
B'Elanna shook her head. "No, Janeway wouldn't allow me to   
do it. She decided a transport at warp speed was too   
'risky.'"  
  
"Ah, but what is life without a few risks? I seem to recall   
several times when we escaped the Cardassian raiders by the   
skin of our teeth." Garrick smiled, remnants of the former   
adrenaline rushing through his blood. "How amazing that   
was. Made you feel alive!"   
  
He turned to her and took her hand in his. "We can have   
that again, B'Elanna. We *will* have that again if you   
stay. We have a battle to fight. A people to stand up for.   
Just like we did in the Badlands."  
  
Warwich laced their fingers together and gazed at her   
intently. "B'Elanna, you have a duty as a fellow member of   
the Maquis. These people are in trouble. It was only just   
by chance that I was able to drive the invaders out when I   
first arrived. I promise you they will come back, and with   
reinforcements."  
  
She sighed and closed her eyes. B'Elanna knew on some level   
that he would play this card and, as much as she'd like to,   
she couldn't hate him for the emotional blackmail.   
"Garrick, these people you fought, they aren't Cardassians.   
That is the Maquis enemy."  
  
Warwich's gaze hardened as his memory replayed countless   
attacks replacing the enemy faces with those of Cardassians.   
The tone of his voice chilled as he spat, "An enemy of the   
Maquis is any race who conducts unprovoked raids on a world,   
raping the people and the land with no concern for anyone   
but themselves."   
  
The harshness in his eyes softened as his gaze refocused on   
her. Garrick smiled slightly, the warmth that had been lost   
slowly seeping back into his voice. "B'Elanna, your arrival   
here is Providence itself. With your engineering skills,   
the fleet would be built in half the time, allowing for more   
training before the war begins."  
  
"Garrick, I have a duty to Starfleet now," she hedged, her   
uncertainty clearly reflected in her voice.  
  
"You have a duty as a member of the Maquis to help me   
protect a world I have come to think of as home," he   
countered ruthlessly. "We took an oath…for life. To   
protect those who cannot defend themselves against those who   
would destroy them. How does this make the Triors any   
different than the Cardassians?" he barked.   
  
The tone of his voice chilled her blood and B'Elanna fought   
the urge to shrink away from him. This was not the Garrick   
Warwich she remembered. He had changed into someone   
more…dangerous. But wasn't he merely doing what was   
necessary? It was a creed she, too, had once adopted as her   
own: 'the end justifies the means.' But during her time on   
Voyager, she had somehow forgotten. Forgotten what it meant   
to live one hour - one fight - at a time. The question was,   
did she want to return to that life?  
  
Garrick, sensing her disconcertion, raised their linked   
hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Don't forget, I   
know who you are. We're cut from the same cloth. You may   
wear a Starfleet uniform now, but in your heart, you're   
still a Maquis warrior. Just like me. It's not something   
that ever goes away."  
  
Slowly, she unlinked their hands and murmured, "I'll - I'll   
think about it. That's the best I can do for now."   
  
Garrick nodded with reluctant acceptance.  
  
As she turned to leave the building, she glanced back and   
felt like she was turning her back on the Maquis life she   
had left behind. The only world in which she had ever truly   
belonged.  
  
  
***  
  
As B'Elanna rematerialized in Transporter Room Two, she   
glanced around at the familiar surroundings and suddenly   
felt claustrophobic. The starkness of the crewman's yellow   
and black uniform stifled the sense of freedom she felt in   
the Kalattii clothing. She offered a nod to the young man   
and walked through the doors, noting for the first time in a   
while how *gray* everything was. The walls, the carpet,   
even the ceiling; everything around her was some shade of   
gray.   
  
It was a far cry from the riotous color that filled the   
buildings on the moon's surface. B'Elanna inwardly wondered   
how she had lasted so long in Voyager's sterile environment.   
She passed two ensigns in the corridor and winced at their   
stiff postures. Was this who she had become? Where was the   
brash young B'Elanna Torres who had killed a squad of   
Cardassians without hesitation? What had Janeway's   
Starfleet ideals done to her?  
  
She paused for a moment and, hearing Garrick's words echo in   
the back of her head, tapped her comm badge. "Torres to   
Janeway."  
  
"Janeway here."  
  
"Captain, I need a moment of your time."  
  
On the bridge, Janeway looked over her shoulder to her first   
officer. She recognized the finality in the younger woman's   
voice. Chakotay nodded with resignation. They had both   
realized that this moment would come. Stifling a sigh, the   
captain replied, "I'll be in my ready room. We'll talk   
there."  
  
***  
  
Torres walked out of Janeway's ready room about an hour   
later. The captain was left with bitter disappointment, but   
B'Elanna felt lighter than she had in years. Now there was   
only one thing left to do: tell Tom.  
  
  
***  
  
8/12  
  
Two words shattered every illusion Tom held desperately   
onto.  
  
"I'm leaving," B'Elanna stated as she pulled out a Starfleet   
issued duffel bag and began cleaning out her drawers. She   
had uttered those damnably painful words quickly hoping to   
end the conversation before it began. But B'Elanna   
instinctively knew Tom wouldn't leave well enough alone.   
Standing in her sleeping quarters, she watched his reaction   
change from shock to resigned acceptance to outright fury in   
the split second it took for him to walk in the door.   
  
He closed his eyes for a moment, clenching his hands into   
fists as a cold anger infused him. His worst nightmare now   
stood right in front of him. She was doing it. She was   
turning her back on Voyager, on the captain, and, worst of   
all, on him.   
  
He stood shaking his head as if he were trying to fully   
comprehend the situation. "Is life so damned horrible here,   
B'Elanna, that you would throw it all away just to go back   
to being a Maquis?" Paris' voice gained strength as his ire   
built. "First you tell me he's an old lover and now you're   
changing your *life* for him! What kind of *hold* does he   
have over you?"  
  
Torres turned back to her packing in an effort to ignore the   
disgust in her lover's eyes. "You should know by now that   
no man controls me," she spat, "not Garrick, not Chakotay   
and certainly not *you*!"   
  
"Well, that's painfully obvious, but why the hell do you   
want to go back to living like a Maquis?" Tom slumped back   
against the wall allowing it to support his body now   
boneless with bewilderment. "Was the life so glamorous and   
the work so wonderful that -"   
  
"I never *stopped* being a Maquis, Paris!" she screamed   
back, rage flowing through her veins unchecked. "My true   
self was just *buried*! Thanks to Janeway and her Starfleet   
rules, to Chakotay for ramming The Liberty and most of all   
to *you*!"  
  
Shocked, Paris shoved himself away from the wall and threw   
his hands in the air. "Me?! What the hell did *I* have to   
do with it?"  
  
B'Elanna turned back to him, forcefully throwing her indigo   
nightgown into the duffel bag. "You pumped my head full of   
lies trying to change me into something I'm not! I'm a   
Maquis, Paris, deal with it!"  
  
Tom shook his head as he watched the fire in her eyes kindle   
into something close to hate. Puzzled, he asked, "Where is   
this coming from, 'Lanna? We were happy together…weren't   
we? Or was that just an illusion as well?"  
  
Torres turned back to the bed unable to face the concern in   
his gaze. Steeling herself to hammer another nail into the   
coffin containing their relationship, she bit out, "The   
B'Elanna Torres you knew is dead. If she ever really   
existed."  
  
Tom grabbed her forcefully by the biceps, knowing full well   
that she could wreak a lot of damage on him, but not caring.   
Her words had already done more harm than her hands ever   
would. "If that's true, then tell me," he commanded, his   
blue gaze piercing her, "once and for all that you never   
loved me. Tell me, and I'll let you go forever."  
  
Paris stared into her dark, fiery eyes and saw the light ebb   
until nothing remained but flat brown pools. He swallowed   
the bile of heartbreak that bubbled in the back of his   
throat as he read the answer in her eyes. No, she didn't   
love him. With a vicious curse, he jerked away from her and   
stalked out of her quarters.  
  
B'Elanna, suddenly bereft of the warmth in his touch, sank   
to the floor, knees buckling under the weight of pain she   
had just inflicted.   
  
'You destroyed him,' cried her human half.  
  
'Better that than to let your enemy destroy your true self!'   
barked her Klingon side.  
  
Unable to answer either argument, Torres, wiping the tears   
from her eyes, unclipped the Starfleet comm badge from her   
uniform and cradled it softly in her hands. "Good-bye," she   
murmured into the dark confines of her cabin.  
  
***  
  
It is a universal truth that people in close confines will   
talk about anything and everything to bring some sense of   
normalcy to extraordinary circumstances. In such cases as   
these, news travels like wild fire and gossip even faster.   
As Neelix walked down the corridor of deck 9, section 12, he   
couldn't help but cringe at the latest news that spread like   
Corellian fleas. If true, and based on the source, it most   
certainly was, it was his job as morale officer to do what   
he could.   
  
He shifted his light burden slightly as he stopped at the   
door to B'Elanna Torres' quarters. With a sigh, he tapped   
the keypad and listened for the corresponding ping. An   
exasperated sigh and a "What do you want?" greeted him as   
the door slid open.  
  
Smiling slightly, his eyes drifted from the tear stained   
cheeks to the duffel bag and bat'leth in her hand and   
concluded that the news was sadly true. B'Elanna watched as   
he tried to form some sort of sentence to cover the awkward   
moment. Digging to the depths of her Klingon side, she   
pulled up every wall she had ever built to help her through   
the next few moments. Like it or not, Neelix had become a   
good friend and she knew he would do his best to talk her   
out of leaving.  
  
Shoving past him and into the hallway, she growled, "You're   
wasting your time, Neelix, if you think you'll change my   
mind!"  
  
"Oh!" he cried, hastening his short stride to catch up to   
her longer one. "I wouldn't dream of it. I know when to   
let things be. I just wanted to give you a little snack -   
for the road, so to speak."  
  
"What? Are you helping me pack?" she muttered under her   
breath before turning on her heel and staring down at the   
shorter man. "The trip will take 30 seconds at the most.   
I'm only transporting to the surface. It's not like I   
haven't done this before."  
  
Neelix nodded, sadness softening his features. "Yes, but…"   
he trailed off, seeing that B'Elanna understood. With a   
glance around the corridor, he pulled his hands from behind   
his back to reveal a large thermos and a sealed container.   
  
He smiled uncertainly and offered, "Raktajino, just the way   
you like it. And, a stack of banana pancakes!"  
  
B'Elanna couldn't help but smile at the dear man. Neelix   
had no equal. She shifted her duffel bag into the hand that   
held her bat'leth and graciously accepted the containers.   
"Neelix, I -" she began only to see the Talaxian lower his   
eyes and hold up a staying hand.  
  
"No, no," he murmured, quickly clearing his throat. "If you   
believe that you're making the right decision, then nothing   
more needs to be said."  
  
Torres nodded and replied, "I'll miss you, too, Neelix.   
And…thanks." She turned on her heel and headed down the   
hallway toward the turbolift never seeing the twin tears   
that trickled down his cheeks.  
  
  
***  
  
B'Elanna took in a quick breath and closed her eyes tightly   
to smother the tears that threatened to form. Dammit, she   
hadn't realized that leaving would be this hard. Running   
the gauntlet of four years of memories and friendships was   
something she knew she would have to do, but she hadn't   
counted on her reactions to it. 'At least the transporter   
room will be safe,' she thought wryly. The post would more   
than likely be operated by a crewman with whom she only had   
a passing familiarity.   
  
However, as the doors to Transporter Room One opened,   
B'Elanna realized the last leg of the gauntlet was still   
left to be run: Harry Kim stood at the controls.  
  
She glanced uncertainly at him and greeted, "Harry."  
  
The ensign watched her closely his dark eyes steady and gaze   
assessing. "B'Elanna," he returned neutrally. He lowered   
his gaze to the console for a moment to check the readings.   
"You know this isn't right," he murmured, his voice so soft   
she almost missed the words.  
  
Knowing he meant well, she quelled the knee-jerk reaction to   
bite his head off and sighed. "It's right for *me*, Harry,"   
she replied as she ascended the transporter platform. She   
turned back to him and offered him a forced smile. "So   
long, Starfleet."   
  
Harry nodded, hearing the double entendre clearly. "Good   
luck, Maquis," he answered offering her an equally forced   
smile.  
  
"Energize."  
  
And she was gone.  
  
***  
  
9/12  
  
Harry stood at the far end of the Sandrine's pool table, cue   
in hand, and watched as Tom set up for the easy win. It was   
a clear shot into the corner pocket - all the pilot had to   
do was hit the eight ball. Tom lined up and Kim leaned in   
slightly, bodily urging the ball home. The stick hit the   
cue ball…and for the third time that night, the eight ball   
went wide.  
  
"Tom," Harry began softly, his voice filled with sympathy.   
"It's been six weeks."  
  
Paris tensed noticeably, knowing full well that the ensign   
wasn't talking about his pool game. Tom rose from his   
slumped position over the table. "I told you," he bit out,   
reaching for his glass of scotch. "I don't want to talk   
about it." He took a big gulp and, glass in hand, pointed   
to his friend. "Your shot."  
  
Kim nodded reluctantly and took aim, easily sinking the   
eight ball.   
  
"Nice shot," the lieutenant acknowledged. Paris laid his   
cue stick on the table and ambled over to the bar, nodding   
to various crewmen seated at the surrounding tables.   
"Sandrine," he called, his voice slurring slightly. "I need   
a refill!"  
  
"You know, just because she left doesn't mean your life is   
over," Harry chastised softly as he joined Tom at the bar.   
The ensign tried to grab the newly filled glass but Paris   
blocked his hand and downed the contents in a single   
swallow.   
  
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Tom began loudly, a slight bite   
hidden in his tone, "haven't you learned by now that women   
are all the same?" He threw a jovial arm around the younger   
man's shoulders and continued, "Why in the world would I   
think my life is over?"  
  
"Maybe because you were in love with her?" Harry offered   
quietly.  
  
Ignoring his friend's supposition, Paris stated matter-of-  
factly, "Much as I hate to admit it, I have been through   
this before. You get over it and go on to the next one."   
He sat heavily on a barstool and picked at a bowl of   
pretzels that Ayala had asked to be added to the program.   
"Besides, what is love anyway?" the pilot asked   
rhetorically. "Is it wonderful and exhilarating? Or is it   
simply giving another person the leverage to rip out your   
heart and hand it to you?"  
  
Harry was grateful that Paris was *finally* opening up about   
what had happened when B'Elanna left, even if it was   
metaphorically. "I think it has its good and bad parts, but   
if you're lucky, you get more good than bad."  
  
"You really are an innocent, aren't you?" Paris asked,   
shooting Kim an amazed look. "It's probably a good thing   
that you're trapped out here in the Delta Quadrant, Harry.   
I don't think you'd stand a chance with some of those women   
in the regular ports of call." He leaned back slightly on   
the barstool but regained his balance quickly before he   
could embarrass himself by falling off. "Man, I could tell   
you some stories…"   
  
Kim, realizing the alcohol was beginning to effect more than   
Paris' motor skills, placed a firm hand on the older man's   
shoulder and said, "I think its time to go, Tom - you've had   
enough for one night."  
  
Paris rejected the idea, quickly shrugging Kim's hand away,   
but Harry was adamant. "Tom, you have the early shift   
tomorrow. Don't think for one second that Chakotay would   
hesitate to remove you from duty if you're even the   
slightest bit hung over."  
  
Tom's shoulders slumped in defeat. He needed the shift to   
keep his mind occupied and away from other, more painful,   
subjects. Just like he sometimes needed the alcohol in the   
off hours. During the six weeks since B'Elanna had been   
gone, not a night had passed in which Harry hadn't spent   
some amount of time with him. In fact, Tom was beginning to   
suspect a conspiracy since they had never been assigned duty   
shifts that coincided that often before. But, when pressed,   
Kim denied it saying that maybe Chakotay had mixed up the   
duty rosters.  
  
They made their way to the door, Kim ignoring the   
sympathetic stares of the crewmembers and Paris continuing   
to boast about his Alpha Quadrant exploits. As much as he   
tried to hide behind his usual mask, Harry knew that Tom had   
a long way to go before he was truly over B'Elanna. They   
had just reached the holodeck doors when Janeway's voice   
came over the comm system. "Senior officers to the Bridge."  
  
'Oh, hell,' Kim thought.  
  
***  
  
The turbolift doors opened, and Paris found himself rapidly   
sobering up as his eyes absorbed the fleet of ships that   
glistened in the viewscreen. 'Oh, hell,' he inwardly echoed   
Harry's earlier thoughts.  
  
"Captain, I certainly hope that's not who I think it is,"   
Tom quipped, the biting edge belying his facetiousness.   
  
Janeway stifled the urge to comfort her pilot, knowing that   
everyone else felt his worries. "How far away are they, Mr.   
Kim?" she asked, straightening to an almost regal height in   
her chair.  
  
"Roughly three light years, Captain."  
  
Chakotay glanced tensely at Janeway. "Have they spotted   
us?"  
  
"Sensors would indicate no," Tuvok replied as he adjusted   
the read-outs on his console. "Should I hail them?"  
  
Kathryn pursed her lips, her mind racing through a multitude   
of scenarios, any one of which could easily occur.   
"Negative," she decided at the last moment. "I don't want   
to risk upsetting someone with that much fire power at their   
disposal if I don't have to." She rose and walked toward   
the viewscreen. "Mr. Paris, lay in a course that will keep   
us as far away from the Triors as possible."   
  
Surprised by her order, Paris turned from his position at   
conn and protested, "Captain, we have to go back. They   
can't be anywhere near ready for a fleet this large. We   
have to help her!"  
  
"It would be imprudent to take on a fleet of this size   
without a substantial amount of reinforcements, Captain,"   
Tuvok pointed out in a calm voice. "Besides, Ms. Torres did   
choose to leave Voyager without any prompting from us. She   
knew that an attack was highly probable."  
  
"Agreed. Mr. Paris, plot the course, warp three,"  
  
"But, Captain!"  
  
She offered him a tight smile. "Just because we're avoiding   
the Triors doesn't mean we won't give B'Elanna a heads-up."  
  
Paris visibly relaxed at her words. "Course plotted."  
  
"Engage. Harry, open a subspace channel to the Kalattii   
moon and make sure there's no way the Triors will pick up on   
it."  
  
"Aye, Captain. Channel open."  
  
Janeway nodded slightly and began, "This is Captain Kathryn   
Janeway of the starship Voyager to the Kalattii moon. We   
have encountered a fleet of ships we believe to be the   
Triors. They are heavily armed and are on a direct course   
for your moon." She paused a moment, carefully weighing her   
options. She turned to Chakotay, who read the resolve in   
her gaze and silently offered his support. "We will be   
returning to your space to offer what aid we can in the   
defense of your home. Janeway out."  
  
The captain looked over her shoulder at Harry. The ensign   
confirmed the transmission had been received moments later.   
"Mr. Paris?" she asked knowing he had anticipated her   
request.  
  
"Coordinates logged in for the Kalattii moon. At warp 6   
we'll be able to easily beat the Triors there."  
  
She folded her arms and ordered, "Do it."  
  
Now all they had to do was wait.  
  
***  
  
10/12  
  
The hours it took to reach the Kalattii moon passed like   
years to Voyager's pilot. Questions raced through his head   
as he considered what would happen once they arrived. Would   
he see B'Elanna? Did he even want to, especially if she was   
happy?  
  
Paris balked at that idea. 'All I want is for her to be   
happy even if it means we won't be together,' he thought,   
chasing those questions out of his mind and refocusing on   
the task at hand.   
  
From her seat in the "big chair," Janeway watched the tense   
line of Tom's shoulders. For someone who was bound and   
determined that Voyager return, he didn't seem to be too   
happy with her decision now. Chakotay leaned toward her and   
whispered, "Don't try to read his mind, Kathryn. He'll be   
alright - whichever way this goes."  
  
Janeway smiled indulgently at her first officer. "I think   
you've got the market cornered on mind reading," she   
murmured, raising her eyebrows at his innocent expression.   
  
Any comment he might have made was forestalled by Tuvok's   
announcement that they were approaching the moon. Without a   
second thought, Janeway's smile disappeared. She rose and   
ordered, "Open hailing frequencies."  
  
"Captain!" Warwich greeted warmly. "So good to see you   
again! Thank you for the warning. We have scrambled the   
ships and crews and will be ready to launch before the   
Triors arrive."  
  
Tom tuned out the remainder of the conversation and instead   
focused on the helm controls while his peripheral vision   
searched the viewscreen for signs of B'Elanna. Little did   
he know, she was doing the same on the other side.  
  
Torres sat just out of view range but close enough to see   
the Bridge crew. She glanced at the Engineering Station and   
was somewhat gratified to see it manned by Joe Carey. As   
hard as she tried, though, she couldn't keep her eyes from   
straying to the conn. Finally giving in to the need to see   
him, B'Elanna allowed her eyes to travel over her former   
lover. She couldn't see him clearly, but what she did see   
gave her pause. His uniform was neat as was his hair, but   
she could read the haggard lines in his face.   
  
A pang flashed through her as she realized how much he was   
still hurting over her sudden departure. In truth, she,   
too, continued to feel a hole in her heart that had once   
been filled by Tom Paris. Though she had done what she had   
always done in the past and forced herself to ignore it,   
seeing him again brought a fresh wave of pain to the   
surface. B'Elanna bit her lip and jerked her attention back   
to the captain and Garrick.   
  
"Well, we haven't constructed as many heavy cruisers as we   
would prefer, but with the scout ships and what few large   
ships we do have, we should be able to adequately defend   
ourselves," Warwich explained.  
  
Janeway nodded. "We would like to extend an offer of help   
to you and the Kalattii people," she answered. Although she   
wasn't sure she liked the way Warwich's eyes lit up at her   
statement, she had nonetheless already committed herself and   
the crew and, barring any unforeseen problems, she would   
stand behind her word.  
  
"Captain! We would be most appreciative of the aid!" the   
former Maquis replied quickly, eager to make use of   
Voyager's firepower.   
  
"Good. Now," Kathryn continued, her stance and expression   
noticeably softening, "if I may, how is B'Elanna?"  
  
Garrick pursed his lips, looked back over his shoulder and,   
ignoring her question, interjected, "I will contact you soon   
regarding strategies. Warwich out."  
  
Brow furrowed at the abrupt end to the conversation, Janeway   
glanced back to Tuvok.   
  
The Vulcan shook his head and replied, "The connection was   
terminated, but there does not seem to be any undue reason   
for it."  
  
Tom looked up from his control panel to the captain, concern   
easily readable in his eyes. 'We'll find out what's going   
on,' Janeway silently promised him.   
  
***  
  
Warwich turned away from the console, cursing inwardly.   
'Dammit! I should've known she would ask about her.' As he   
walked toward the command station, his eyes caught   
B'Elanna's.   
  
"Why wouldn't you let me talk to her, Garrick?" Torres   
asked, her confusion evident.  
  
The former Maquis shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "You're   
no longer a member of her crew. Why should she be concerned   
with you?"  
  
B'Elanna's eyes narrowed as she stalked toward him.   
"They're my *friends,*" she bit out, her hands clenched into   
fists by her sides. "I left suddenly…the list of reasons   
for her concern could go on and on."  
  
Garrick waved a hand in her general direction. "So, you'll   
make knew friends. You'll have tons of them on the moon   
once the war is over. And, most importantly," he added,   
turning to look at her arrogantly, "you'll have me. What   
more could a girl want?"  
  
B'Elanna shook her head in disbelief. Who was this man who   
stood in front of her? Certainly not the Garrick Warwich   
she had shared a bed with all those years ago. She looked   
at him as if seeing him for the first time. "You may think   
you know me, Garrick, but you obviously don't love me."  
  
Warwich looked at her askance. "What does that have to do   
with anything? What we're going to accomplish--"  
  
"Means nothing if my heart isn't in it," she interrupted.   
She finally realized the truth that she had shoved away in   
favor of selfish fantasies. "I left a man who *does* love   
me. Who wants me for who I am and not just for my   
engineering expertise."  
  
Warwich shook his head with amused tolerance. "B'Elanna, I   
told you, our relationship will resume. Just give it time;   
once the battle is over, and I don't have so much weighing   
on my mind -"  
  
"Garrick!" she cried, disgust creeping into her tone. "I'm   
not talking about the sex. I can find and have found it   
anywhere. I'm talking about love; complete and total   
devotion to another person." She turned away from him and   
gestured widely, "This job won't give me that, and I don't   
think you can either."  
  
B'Elanna sighed and dropped her hands back to her sides.   
Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "When Voyager   
arrives, I'm going back." She paused before turning away.   
"I do thank you, though. You've shown me how much I've   
grown up over the past few years. I'm not the renegade   
half-Klingon who rebuilt 39 year old engines and kept a ship   
of misfits a half step ahead of the enemy." Torres' lips   
quirked with wry amusement. "I'm a respected Starfleet   
officer who rebuilds bio-neural matrices and keeps a ship of   
combined Starfleet and Maquis one step closer to home. But   
more than that, I'm a woman who knows what it truly means to   
be loved. And its time for me to go home."  
  
A soft smile flitted over her lips as she walked out of the   
command room, her mind already forming several variations of   
the words, 'I'm sorry.'  
  
As the door closed behind her, Garrick's previous calm   
shattered violently. "No!" he raged, slamming a fist down   
onto a nearby console. "She won't leave here! I need her!   
She's the only one who can do this. She will *not* ruin me!   
Computer, locate B'Elanna Torres."  
  
"B'Elanna Torres is in her quarters."  
  
"Security, take B'Elanna Torres into custody."  
  
"On what charge, sir?"  
  
"Illegal off-world transport. Transporting stolen   
documents, and whatever else you can think up. She will   
*not* leave this moon!"  
  
"Yes, Your Reverence."  
  
***  
  
Minutes later, B'Elanna found herself struggling between two   
armed guards as she was unceremoniously hauled out of her   
quarters. "What the hell are you doing?" she raged   
wrenching her arms out of their grasps. The slight sound of   
phaser-based guns being armed stopped her struggles, though   
it did nothing to ease her ire. "Let me go! Garrick will   
hear about this!"  
  
After shoving her through a door, a familiar voice   
interrupted any further railing she might have blasted at   
the guards. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna, but surely you didn't   
think that I would just let you blithely change your mind   
and walk out on me. You have too much top secret knowledge   
tucked away behind those lovely cranial ridges of yours.   
There's no limit to the damage you could wreak on this moon   
and my people."  
  
The two Kalattiian men slammed the low-tech cell door closed   
and set the lock-out frequency before moving to stand near   
the doors.  
  
"Garrick, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Torres   
yelled as she jerked the bars impotently, feeling them   
rattle slightly but holding against her Klingon strength.   
"Holding me hostage is not something Voyager is going to   
take lightly."  
  
"Hostage?" Warwich asked, feigning shock, his eyes gleaming   
with evil mirth. "That's such a *nasty* little word. I   
prefer to think of your being in protective custody. After   
all, we will be at war and space travel is so dangerous   
during those times."  
  
"Janeway won't believe you, Petahk!" B'Elanna yelled   
slamming her fists into the wall.  
  
Garrick grew thoughtful, "You're probably right. But she   
will believe *you*."  
  
"I will *not* lie to my captain!"  
  
"Oh, no, my dear, you won't be doing anything at all," he   
interjected sweetly. "You see, you'll be too busy making   
last minute adjustments to the ships before we send them up   
into the fight."  
  
"Damn you, Garrick! You haven't changed! You're still the   
same conniving self-serving bastard that you were in the   
Alpha Quadrant."  
  
"Perhaps, my dear, but I'm sad to say I was wrong about you!   
You're a coward now. You pine away for your safe and cozy   
ship and rant and rave over some useless emotion! It's such   
a shame, really. You were so much more alive back then."   
  
Without another word, Garrick cut the communication link,   
but Torres, determined to have the last word, hurled   
Klingonaase at the blank screen.  
  
***  
  
Janeway watched the huge gas giant that hung in the middle   
of the viewscreen as she shook off a sudden feeling of   
foreboding. She had never given much credence to the notion   
before, and if she had her preference, she wouldn't do so   
now. Nevertheless, she mentally held her breath as she   
waited for the other shoe to drop.   
  
"Mr. Paris," she directed, shaking off the thought, "plot a   
high orbit around the gas giant. Hopefully, we'll be able   
to shield ourselves as long as possible to add an element of   
surprise to the attack." She squared her shoulders and   
turned away from the blue-green orb, ordering, "Mr. Kim,   
open a channel to the moon. It's time Mr. Warwich and I   
talk strategy."  
  
Inwardly, she still hoped for some sign of B'Elanna -- even   
if it were only a glimpse on the viewscreen. Something   
wasn't right but, as yet, she couldn't determine what. "Mr.   
Warwich," she greeted as the Most Reverered's image appeared   
on the screen.  
  
"Captain!" Garrick returned, offering the captain a smile   
which did not reach his eyes. 'Careful, Warwich,' he warned   
himself silently. 'You need their help. And you damn sure   
don't want them thinking anything is wrong.' Forcing   
himself to relax, he continued. "I'm sure you want to get   
started on working out a defense plan."  
  
"That would be the first order of business," she returned   
with a nod of agreement.  
  
Garrick's smile broadened, and hoping to stave off the   
inevitable questions, he answered, "B'Elanna will be as glad   
to hear that as I am. In fact, she's doing some last minute   
modifications to the fleet as we speak."  
  
Janeway's mouth quirked into a fond smile. "That sounds   
like the B'Elanna Torres I know."  
  
The Most Revered chuckled good-naturedly all the while   
wondering how the half-Klingon liked her new accommodations.  
  
"Harry," Janeway began decisively, "transfer the comm   
channel to my ready room. I'd like you, Chakotay, and Tuvok   
to join me to formulate a plan of defense."  
  
The ensign nodded as the captain gave Warwich one last   
measuring look, judging the man's sincerity and finding him   
lacking. She could feel the commander rising from his seat   
and walking toward her. "I don't like this, Chakotay," she   
murmured, crossing her arms. "If everything is so alright,   
why haven't we seen B'Elanna?"  
  
Chakotay leaned toward her, dropping his voice so that his   
words wouldn't be overheard. "Maybe she *is* busy.   
Readying a fleet of hastily constructed ships isn't easy."   
Janeway shot him a thoughtful look. "No," the commander   
replied with a cynical smile, "I don't buy it either. But   
until we hear otherwise, we have no option but to proceed as   
planned."  
  
The captain nodded reluctantly and walked toward the ready   
room, her mind formulating the beginnings of the attack.  
  
***  
  
B'Elanna Torres, in fact, was not enjoying her new   
accommodations at all. She had paced the length and breadth   
of her cell so often she had lost count, stoking her   
simmering ire into a full-blown rage. Only then would she   
be able to take on the antiquated titanium bars that held   
her captive.   
  
She laughed harshly. In all her years, she had never found   
a machine that she couldn't manipulate, given enough time.   
And yet the one thing that she couldn't sneak her way past   
was a series of metal bars. B'Elanna grabbed the bars and   
shook vigorously, reveling in the Klingon rage that flowed   
through her. Although the action only served to irritate   
her more, she took savage glee in the fact that she had   
frightened off the two guards hours ago. "Damn you!" she   
raged, then added another curse in Klingon that questioned   
her captors' parentage.  
  
"Think, B'Elanna," she muttered to herself, squeezing her   
hands into fists. Throwing herself to the floor, she peered   
absently at the cracks in the concrete wall. A tiny gleam   
of light, unnoticed at first, appeared between the bars and   
the wall. Her eyes tracked the light trying to find its   
source, and, after a moment, she lunged to her feet.   
  
There! Just as she suspected. The casing that held that   
section of the bars to the concrete had loosened. Whether   
over time or her heated efforts, she didn't care. All that   
mattered was that it was potentially a way out. Smelling   
the first wafts of freedom, B'Elanna squeezed her left hand   
between the concrete and the bar and pulled.   
  
Seconds passed and the gap had widened only centimeters.   
Steeling herself for another try, she took in a deep breath,   
then spied a bright piece of metal along the opposite wall.   
Curious, she walked toward it. She easily recognized the   
hyperspanner she had absently tucked in her pocket before   
her encounter with Garrick. "It must have fallen out when   
they threw me in here," she murmured, turning the tool over   
and over. A satisfied smile crept over her features. With   
a little luck and ingenuity, she'd be free in no time.  
  
***  
  
"Captain," Warwich remarked, leaning back in his chair, "I   
look forward to the first strike. Now, if you don't mind, I   
need to go check on B'Elanna and the fleet."  
  
Janeway nodded. "Once the long range sensors pick up the   
Triorian fleet, we'll move into position and contract you."  
  
"Agreed. Warwich out."  
  
The captain glanced at her officers. "Alright, then. Let's   
get moving. We've got plenty to do before the Triors   
attack."  
  
The trio nodded in agreement and returned to the bridge.   
  
***  
  
B'Elanna heaved a sigh of relief as the last bar gave way.   
Though it had been tedious, painstaking work, the spanner   
had effectively widened the gap between the bars and the   
wall just enough to allow her the leverage she needed. She   
squeezed into the small hole and, thanking Kahless she had   
declined Neelix's multiple offers of various chocolate   
delights, inched her way out of the cell.   
  
Once free, she rushed to the console on the far wall from   
which Garrick had gleefully touted his victory. Just a few   
minor modifications and…. "Aha! You don't win that easy,   
Warwich!" she exclaimed as a connection coalesced out of the   
static. "Torres to Voyager, can you read me?"  
  
On the starship in question, Harry Kim peered intently at   
the subspace communication monitors. Seeing a blip, he   
remodulated the bands and began to get a slightly distorted   
signal. "Captain, we've got a message coming in from the   
moon."  
  
Curious, Janeway asked from her seat in the command chair,   
"Is it Warwich?"  
  
"No, I think…yes, it's B'Elanna," Kim answered, startled awe   
filling his voice.   
  
The captain stood immediately, and offering a sympathetic   
glance to her pilot, ordered, "Put it on screen."  
  
The viewscreen blinked and the gas giant disappeared from   
view, replaced by the fuzzy image of B'Elanna Torres.   
"Torr-- to --ager…" she hailed, the static mincing her   
words.  
  
"Clean it up, Mr. Kim," Chakotay stated briskly as he joined   
Janeway a few feet from the conn.  
  
Harry's fingers danced over the control panel and, within   
seconds, the image cleared.  
  
"Torres to Janeway -"  
  
"We read you, B'Elanna," Kathryn reassured her former chief   
engineer.  
  
"Captain, I'm being held prisoner," Torres began.   
  
Janeway ignored Paris' sharp intake of breath at her words   
and instead placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "What   
happened?"  
  
The half-Klingon heaved a sigh of resignation. 'Time to own   
up to one of the two biggest mistakes of your life, Torres,'   
she inwardly urged. B'Elanna, uncertain of the reaction her   
explanation would bring, forced her gaze to rest solely on   
the captain. "When Garrick told me you had found the Triors   
en route, I was already having misgivings about my role here   
on the moon. I had decided that I wanted to go back to   
Voyager. Needless to say, he didn't take the news very   
well. He flipped out and had me arrested."  
  
"Mr. Tuvok, can you get a lock on her coordinates?"  
  
"Negative, it appears that the cell she is currently in is   
some distance below the surface. The interference from the   
moon's defense grid is making it difficult to perform a full   
sensor sweep."  
  
"I'll take a shuttle, Captain," Paris stated eagerly, moving   
out of his seat at the conn.  
  
Janeway raised a hand, forestalling any further move by the   
pilot. "Chakotay, I want you to go."  
  
Paris shook his head, unable to believe the captain's   
orders. "But, Captain--" Paris protested.  
  
She smiled softly, offering her unspoken support for the   
heartbroken man. "Mr. Paris, I understand your feelings,   
but, given our current position and the possibility of a   
Kalaati attack, once they realize what we're doing, we're   
going to need you right here."  
  
Glancing back to the woman in the viewscreen, Paris nodded   
his reluctant agreement. 'Hang in there, B'Elanna,' he   
silently entreated, 'the calvary's on its way.'  
  
***  
  
11/12  
  
Chakotay sat behind the controls of the Cochrane, his   
thoughts torn between the impending battle and the reunion   
with his former shipmate. When she had first told him that   
she wanted to leave Voyager, he hadn't doubted her sincerity   
or her resolve. But somehow, when the time had come,   
Chakotay was still surprised that she had left. He knew   
that her decision had placed her on the wrong path, however,   
his spirit guide had warned that any interference on his   
part would only be met with anger. So, he hadn't said a   
word when she left. Hadn't even said goodbye. In truth, he   
knew she would be back; the only unknown was when.  
  
The double trill of the sensor alert jerked him away from   
his thoughts. "Chakotay to Voyager. I'm right above her   
location. Scanning for Klingon life signs…"  
  
He tapped out several commands beginning a full sensor sweep   
of the area. Seeing a lone figure running from the building   
which held the cell, the commander cursed, "Dammit,   
B'Elanna, what are you doing?" A group of heavily armed   
guards followed her, though they were no match for her long   
strides. Chakotay locked on to her life signs and Torres,   
feeling the familiar initial tingle of the transporter,   
stopped in her tracks.   
  
Seconds later, the transport was complete. "Captain," the   
commander hailed, "I've got her. We're returning to the   
ship."  
  
Short of breath, B'Elanna took her seat at the tactical   
station. "Thought I'd give you a diversion."  
  
"Thanks, but a simple beam out would have been preferable,"   
the commander replied wryly.  
  
B'Elanna smirked, happy to once again be subject to his   
perverse sense of humor. In truth, Torres had felt guilty   
about Voyager aiding in her jailbreak and, deciding she had   
already put them through too much trouble, had overpowered   
the guard when he returned to check on her.   
  
In a matter of moments, the Cochrane was out of the moon's   
atmosphere and winging its way toward the aft cargo bay   
doors. Chakotay expertly piloted the shuttle through the   
cargo bay doors, landing her with only a slight thud. He   
glanced over at his passenger, gauging her reaction to her   
surroundings. "Home sweet home."  
  
"Yeah, it is," she answered. B'Elanna smiled with   
contentment and sighed, feeling a slight trace of   
uncertainty course through her. She wasn't sure just how   
warm the welcome would be…especially by Tom.  
  
***  
  
The daring rescue, quick though it was, had not gone   
unnoticed by The Most Revered. Kathryn winced internally at   
the piercing edge that fear brought to Warwich's words.   
"Captain Janeway!" Garrick yelled forcefully in the   
viewscreen. "This is absolutely *outrageous!* You have   
kidnapped B'Elanna! I demand her safe return now."  
  
Brow wrinkled in cynical disbelief, the captain crossed her   
arms and countered, "I'm afraid that's impossible, Mr.   
Warwich. Not only did B'Elanna contact us, she stated that   
*you* were holding her against her will in a prison cell."  
  
Garrick feigned a stunned look. "That is a lie! I would   
never hold B'Elanna against her will. She's my right hand!   
I can't do anything without her!"  
  
The turbolift doors opened just as Warwich finished his vow   
of adoration and revealed the former chief engineer and the   
commander. "Well, you're just going to have to get used to   
my absence, Garrick," B'Elanna bit out, fiery hatred filling   
her eyes. "I don't know what I ever saw in you!"  
  
"B'Elanna!" Garrick pleaded. "I can't win this fight   
without you! You know that!"  
  
"Maybe it was never yours to win," Janeway answered quietly.   
  
Warwich narrowed his eyes with menace, anger smoldering in   
their depths. "Then I guess I'll see you in hell, Captain,"   
he swore viciously before severing the communication link.   
He swung away from the console balling his hands into fists   
so tightly that his knuckles gleamed a pale white under his   
tanned skin. "*Dammit!*" he raged, slamming one of his   
fists into the nearest wall, denting the surface slightly.   
"Fine, if she wants to leave the best offer she's ever had   
then let her. She can live or die for all I care." A light   
of inspiration flickered through his eyes as his mind turned   
over all the possibilities in that statement.   
  
He turned back to the Kalattii man who stood at the moon's   
defense system. "Phrashel, target the lunar defense grid on   
Voyager's coordinates," Garrick ordered, his tone chilling   
the already frosty air in the command room a few more   
degrees.  
  
Phrashel turned to The Most Revered, uncertain if he had   
heard him correctly. "Sir?" he asked, his confusion   
evident.   
  
"Dammit! I told you to target all defense systems on   
Voyager. If I can't have her, then she won't have her   
beloved ship," Garrick swore motioning for the Kalattiian to   
obey. "Fire!"  
  
***  
  
"Captain," Tuvok's unflappable voice intoned from his post.   
"The Kalattii are firing." Seconds after he had spoken,   
Voyager rocked slightly with the impact.  
  
"Damage report!" ordered Chakotay as he steadied Janeway.  
  
The Vulcan stoically checked the read-outs. "Damage is   
minimal. Shields are at 85% and holding."  
  
"Captain!" Harry interrupted. "The Triors are now within   
visual range and are arming weapons."  
  
Janeway nodded and glanced over her shoulder at Torres who   
still stood near the turbolift, unsure of her place on the   
Bridge. "Mr. Paris, get us out of here."  
  
Tom quirked a satisfied smile and answered enthusiastically,   
"Yes, ma'am!" He personally couldn't wait to put several   
light years between Voyager and the moon.  
  
The captain smothered a smile and turned to Chakotay as he   
took his seat. "The minute we leave this solar system, I   
want all senior staff in the briefing room." She watched the   
flicker of regret flit through B'Elanna's eyes and inwardly   
sighed with relief. "You, too, Ms. Torres."  
  
***  
12/12  
  
"Captain," Paris stated. "We're approaching 10 light years   
distance from the Kalattii moon."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Paris." Janeway stood and surveyed the   
Bridge crew quickly. "Alright, everyone..."  
  
Relief officers quickly left their posts to man the main   
systems as the Bridge officers made their way to the   
meeting. B'Elanna turned and followed Janeway before she   
could meet the eyes of her former peers. Elation mixed with   
dread and sent her stomachs into a queasy tumult.   
  
As the Bridge officers took their seats, Janeway and   
B'Elanna remained standing. The captain slowly sat,   
indicating that Torres had their full attention. She bit   
her lip, indecision warring over her caramel features.   
Finally, she murmured, "Gods, I had this all planned out. I   
knew exactly what I was going to say, how to say it, and now   
that we're all here..." She paced away from the table,   
gathering her thoughts and her resolve. "First off," she   
began, turning decisively back to the group, "I want to   
apologize." Her gaze drifted around the room, coming to   
rest on Tom Paris for a moment before returning to the   
captain.   
  
"I know I put everyone in a bind by leaving so suddenly.   
But at the time, I was doing what I thought was *right*."  
  
Janeway smiled softly as she leaned forward to rest her arms   
on the table. "No one doubts your sincerity, B'Elanna."  
  
Torres bit back a harsh bark of laughter. "Good," she   
answered, "because I doubt my sanity." She walked to the   
wall console and stared blankly at it. "At first, it was   
just like old times."  
  
Paris winced visibly at her words, his imagination   
envisioning just which 'old times' she meant. Harry shot   
him a supportive look as the half-Klingon continued. "I   
built the ships, he trained the crew. Toward the end we   
were running drills. Everything was working perfectly.   
  
"We sent out one of the scout ships on a trial run a few   
light years and back. Nothing too big. The whole process   
was filled with celebration and there was even a token   
dignitary on board when the ship left orbit." B'Elanna   
paused and shook her head. "They contacted us about an hour   
after take off. They had encountered a Triorian patrol.   
All hands were lost, including Janell, the First Prefect,   
who was the dignitary.  
  
"When the news reached the moon, Garrick changed. I don't   
know which was worse, losing his prototype ship or the   
person who had supported him most. Either way, he went from   
charming and dedicated to cold and devious. A man bent on   
domination rather than just resistance." She paused,   
reflecting on the man she once knew. "It wasn't something I   
expected. But it made me realize that that wasn't the life   
I wanted to live. I didn't have to choose between Maquis and   
Starfleet . Subconsciously, I had made my real choice long   
ago when I accepted the position of Chief Engineer."   
  
B'Elanna glanced at the captain, uncertainty easily readable   
in her eyes. "I needed to return to Voyager…to come home.   
If you'll have me."  
  
Janeway offered the younger woman an understanding smile and   
rose from her seat. "I believe I speak for all of us when I   
say, it's good to have you back," she welcomed warmly, fond   
affection seeping into her voice. A mysterious smile tinged   
her lips as Kathryn walked toward B'Elanna. Holding out her   
hand, the captain sobered and stated in her most no-nonsense   
tone, "I believe you're out of uniform, Lieutenant."   
  
Torres looked down at Janeway's outstretched hand and smiled   
widely. Picking up the silver communicator, she replied   
staunchly, "Yes, Ma'am!"  
  
Pleased with the outcome, the Bridge crew relaxed easily,   
smiles slipping over several faces. The captain clapped her   
hands together and ordered, "Alright, then, everyone back to   
work!"  
  
The officers filed out quickly leaving Paris and Torres   
alone in the conference room. They stood at opposite ends   
of the room, neither saying a word, both equally scared of   
what the other was thinking. After a long period of   
uncomfortable silence, they began to speak at once.   
Chuckling weakly, Tom gestured for B'Elanna to continue.  
  
"Kahless, Tom. I'm sorry. I-I was so mixed up." The pain   
in her voice forced his gaze to hers and she closed some of   
the space between them. "Garrick told me everything I   
wanted to hear. He played to my guilt over the Maquis and   
appealed to the pride I have in being an engineer. It was   
so stupid. He said he would give me everything and I didn't   
realize that all I ever wanted was right here on Voyager: a   
fulfilling job, people who respect me, friends who support   
me, and, most of all, a man who loves me..." Slowly, she   
walked toward him until mere centimeters separated them.   
  
B'Elanna searched his features, and seeing the uncertainty   
in his eyes, she continued rapidly, "God, I know I screwed   
up. You have every right to hate me for the hell I put you   
through and the lies I told you…" She was babbling, but she   
couldn't seem to stop. Not knowing if they still had a   
chance was no better than knowing that their relationship   
was over. She dreaded his answer as much as she needed to   
hear it, to hear that he didn't hate her, that she hadn't   
ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her.  
  
"They aren't lies if you believe them." Tom raised a   
trembling hand and traced his fingers along her jawline. His   
fingers drifted almost of their own volition around her   
cheek and over her lips as if refamiliarizing himself with   
her features. 'God, I love her,' he thought, marveling at   
the smooth texture of her skin.  
  
B'Elanna leaned into his touch, aching to feel his arms   
wrapped around her, cocooning her in his warm embrace. The   
minutes stretched until there was nothing in the universe   
except them. At length, Tom cupped the back of her head,   
drawing it to his chest as he sifted his fingers through her   
silky hair. B'Elanna heaved a relieved sigh.  
  
"We can't go back to where we were," Tom murmured with   
regret.   
  
B'Elanna lifted her eyes to his, the tears that suddenly   
formed in the brown pools barely leashed. She nodded with   
regret silently mourning the loss of their past. Swallowing   
the lump that was painfully lodged in her throat, she asked,   
"But can we go on from here?"  
  
He was quiet, trying to sort out the conflicting emotions   
that roiled through him. She had chosen her past over him   
once, would she do it again? And if so, could he go on?   
Torres slipped her hand up to cup his jaw as she read the   
fear in his eyes. "I know you're worried -- you have every   
right to be." She ran her thumb across the phantom scar on   
his cheek. "But, it's only love. Don't be afraid, Tom.   
Don't let a childish mistake destroy everything we've built   
together. I love you," she murmured into his neck offering   
him the solace that his heart needed. "It's all I have to   
give." _But is it enough?_ cried her heart. 'Please let it   
be enough,' she pleaded silently, increasingly aware that he   
had yet to respond.  
  
After a millennia of moments, each bringing its own heart-  
rending outcome, Tom leaned forward and pressed a kiss to   
her forehead, savoring the feel of her cranial ridges   
against his lips. Relief, heady as the strongest blood   
wine, coursed through her. It was enough.  
  
"B'Elanna," he began softly, his voice scratchy as if he   
hadn't spoken in years. "I love *you.* Not just the person   
you were or the person you are now, but all of you." Tom's   
fingers feathered through her dark tresses as he rememorized   
the feel of them. "I never want you to think that I would   
stop loving you just because you made some bad choices. If   
nothing else," he chuckled wryly, "that would be   
hypocritical."   
  
Basking in the all-encompassing maleness of his scent, and   
unable to fight the temptation any longer, B'Elanna licked   
him just above his uniform collar. She felt him tighten his   
hold on her as the electric jolt her touch created coursed   
through him. After a moment of silence, B'Elanna uttered   
the final balm to the wounds she had knowingly inflicted so   
many weeks ago. "In answer to your question, no." Tom drew   
away from her and looked at her blankly, clearly not   
remembering the context of the discussion.  
  
Torres forced her gaze to his hoping not to see what she   
dreaded to find in his eyes. "You asked me if Garrick made   
me feel like you make me feel. And the answer is no."   
  
Paris tensed at the subject, but did not drop his arms.   
B'Elanna took that as a good sign. "How *did* he make you   
feel?" he asked hating himself for still needing to know the   
answer.  
  
She bit her lower lip, searching for the right words to   
describe the situation. "Alive, but incomplete. Looking   
back on it, it was almost as if we did it out of rebellion.   
Against what, I'm not sure."  
  
Tom swallowed, mentally preparing himself for her answer to   
his next question. "And how do I make you feel?"  
  
A soft smile spread over her face as she cupped his cheek.   
Relishing the contentment that washed over her, in a voice   
filled with tenderness, she answered, "Loved. Totally,   
completely and absolutely. Nothing in the world can replace   
that feeling."  
  
Joy incarnate radiated back at her. The dull light in his   
blue eyes was rapidly replaced by elation and, strangely   
enough, a sense of recognition. "There's the girl," Paris   
murmured, the corners of his mouth lifting. "There's   
B'Elanna Torres." And lowering his mouth to hers, he began   
the reintroductions.  
  
END  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
